The Dancing Dove
by xxTunstall Chickxx
Summary: A Dancing Dove one-shot. I sang for my people, the ones who died of hunger on the streets. I sang for the king, not the one on the golden throne, but the one on the wooden one. The king of the people. My king. My country. My people. --xxTunstall Chickxx


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**The Dancing Dove**

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Once upon a time there was a mot with hair like the sun, like corn silk. A mot with a voice that could break hearts, and who danced like the night was on fire. Once upon a time in the desolate and violent place that was Scanra, there was a mot who seemed wild as the beasts that prowled the ice, untameable and as beautiful as she was deadly. Once upon a time there was a mot that went by the name of the Dancing Dove. Once upon a time, that mot was me.

_I sing because I know what it's like  
To hurt, to laugh,  
To love, to die.  
I sing because I know  
that there are people out there  
who need me to sing._

Franze the Tyrant was king of Scanra but there was another. Another whose throne was not made of gold, like the other king's, but of wood. A king who looked after his people, unlike the king on the golden throne, and he goverened his people justly albeit with a ruthless hand. The king of the Rogues. Every night I would sing and dance for my king, would charm the court with my voice. Would watch as their eyes glazed over and as they drooled. Every night I brought life to the court. Every night I sang for the people in my country.

_I sing because I like  
to help people,  
to make them think they're beautiful,  
because they are.  
Even if they don't know it._

I sang for the little mots with no mamas, I sang for the old men whom had lost their wives. I sang until hard men and women cried like babes. I danced until there was nothing else for them to think about. Every night I would go to the Court of the Rogue and make them forget. Forget their days spent in hard labor, forget the people they have lost, forget how miserable their lives were. It didn't matter that when they went home at night it would come back. It didn't matter because I was a way to escape reality, even if only for a moment.

_I sing because  
I know my voice will reach somebody,  
I know my lyrics will touch somebody,  
I know my broken cry will move somebody._

I sang for the beggars on the street, who waved arms at passers-by; stumps because their hands were long gone. I sang for those people who walked past the beggars, ignoring them, for they had barely the money for bread for their own families.  
I sang for the people with no home, I sang for the people with no love. I sang for freedom.

_I sing because I hurt,  
because I bleed,  
because there's a hole where my happiness should be._

But to say I sang only for others would be a lie for I am a simple mot who wants to earn her living, for the secret in her belly, growing bigger each and every day. I sang of broken hearts in ballads that made others bawl, because I sang of mine own heart, the one that will never mend.

_I sing of footsteps in the sand,  
representing memories of long ago.  
I sing of a waterfall,  
a cascading beauty that  
is deadly for all her fiery temper._

I sang praise to things that were, of the good days with bountiful food. Of the mornings where I would wake up with my man beside me. The days I thought I was invincible, thought my armour couldn't be pierced. I sang of things that were, things that are no longer. More often than not I would cry as I sang, because I would be overcome with sadness and with despair. I cried but held strong for the little boy that was growing inside me.

_Because of the tears I wish I could cry.  
I sing of wilting roses,  
because I know  
that everything beautiful, eventually dies._

I look down now on my little boy, who has grown up into a young man. And I realize that if I could go back and change it all, I wouldn't. I sang and I danced until the last of my days, bringing life back into spirits that had lost their way. I sang for my people who died on the streets, for my king, for my country. I sang until my voice grew raw, and danced until my feet bled. I didn't care. I sang out a cry for help in a world that would not give my people any. I sang out in defiance, in anger and in passion. I sang out for my people, and I saved money for my now my lad has grown up and I am gone from the realms of the living, and I believe that my spent voice and weary bones need to rest.  
The Dancing Dove would sing no more.

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**Alright, one that has been muddling in my head for a while now, I was careful not to give away any Bloodhound spoilers. **

**Hope you liked it...**

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**Keep Reading,**

**xxTunstall Chickxx**

**23/04/09**


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